


His Father's Son

by Ranchel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys is the sensible one, Drunk Jon Snow, F/M, Fluff and Humor, R plus L equals J, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranchel/pseuds/Ranchel
Summary: Five tanks of ale and a soft tune is all it takes to turn Jon Snow into Rhaegar's son.





	His Father's Son

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a tumblr post of the fabulous violet-eyes-silver-hair.

“If I knew you were going to turn into Tyrion I wouldn’t have given you time to think”

Daenerys sat by his side, neatly resting her hands on her lap. Jon took a swing of his ale without looking at her.

“I’m just partaking in the general merriness,” his slurred answer told her everything she needed to know, the five empty tanks abandoned on the table behind them were, in fact, all his.

“Jon…”

“I’m fine,” he said a little too sharply. Daenerys looked away, her regal pose falling into place. “I’m sorry,” Jon sighed “I just… it is a lot to grasp in one week.”

“It is a lot to grasp in a lifetime,” she didn’t turn to look at him, her softened gaze falling instead on the dancing figures of Sansa and Arya. “but we told you, Jon, we’ll be by your side no matter what. And we’ll get through this, together.”

Daenerys fought the urge to rest her hand on his arm in a comforting gesture, instead, she tightly folded her hands in front of her. She was aware of Jon’s inner turmoil regarding her, could see the fight between love and honour in his eyes every time he looked at her and didn’t want to add to his confusion with a careless sign of affection. All her discretion, however, was currently being jeopardized by Jon himself looking at her like he wanted to fuck her right there while reciting the names of all the Targaryen kings in chronological order.

“You might want to reconsider your next move, Lord Snow,” she finally turned to look at him, facing a not too unfamiliar smouldering gaze “before you do something you may regret come morning.”

Jon looked up from her lips and smiled softly, slowly leaning towards her.

“I’ll never regret loving you” with each word he got closer to her until Daenerys could feel his breath tickling her lips.

“Don’t get me wrong, Jon,” she said raising an eyebrow and stopping his advances with a finger to his lips “there is nothing I desire more… but I would rather hear your declaration of love when you’re sober.”

“Fair enough” Jon looked down shaking his head and raising his hands in surrender, his smile never faltering.

He finally turned away, returning his attention to the group of dancing drunkards before them. Lannisters, Starks, Targaryens, Baratheons and Greyjoys; Westerosi and Essosi; trueborn and bastards; all in the same room sharing drinks instead of trying to kill each other. Daenerys was reminded of a faraway day in a cave by the beach where the eyes of a northerner had set aflame a part of her she’d assumed dead long ago. Maybe, just maybe, she could still hope for a better world.

“Oh, I know this one” Jon’s soft whisper returned her to the present.

“What?” chuckled Daenerys.

She worried about the drinking, it was true, but she couldn’t deny it was funny seeing him like this, so different from his usual brooding self. So young.

“The song…” he eagerly grabbed her arm. She could hear a flute playing a soft and slow tune in the background. “ _I will build my love a bower, near yon pure crystal fountain…_ ”

Jon’s singing didn’t stop, but the world around her did. It was almost surreal. She had stopped thinking of Jon as a northern brute long ago, but this… he had the most melodic singing voice she had ever heard. With tears in her eyes, Daenerys turned to look at the only three people who could confirm her suspicion and found that the faces of Jaime Lannister, Varys and Howland Reed mirrored her own. _He liked to walk among the people, he liked to sing to them_. Truly his father’s son.

“Why is everyone looking at me?” she heard Jon whisper beside her, his speech a little less slurred than moments ago.

The room had gone absolutely silent, even the musicians had stopped playing. Daenerys pursed her lips trying to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to escape her eyes.

“Dany” he said softly, confusion furrowing his brow as he raised his hand to catch a rebel tear that raced down her cheek.

Daenerys closed her eyes and took a deep breath, ready to explain the unusual situation, when she felt Jon’s lips upon her own. Suddenly the room erupted into cheers, the drunken joy returning to its occupants. Jon smiled, resting his forehead against hers.

“Oi Snow, where’s your sense of propriety?” a very drunk Gendry shouted from the top of one of the tables, interrupting the moment.

“That’s Your Grace to you, Waters!” Jon shouted back, standing up and puffing his chest in what she guessed was a poor imitation of a regal pose.

Daenerys smiled. A better world, indeed.


End file.
